


An Unfortunate Lack of Griffons

by Jicklet



Series: Mages of Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jicklet/pseuds/Jicklet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles from the perspective of Kara Amell, as she goes from Circle Mage to Warden Commander of Ferelden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tower, and What Came Before

It's remarkable how fast your life can change.

One moment you're petulant eight-year-old arguing with your mother because practicing how to sit like a lady sounds like a rubbish waste of an afternoon (you _want_ to go with your brother to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow, _how come he's younger but gets to do the fun stuff?)._

The next moment the table's on fire and you're looking to your mother to help, but your lovely ever-confident mother is knocking into furniture and servants as she backs out of the room _(eyes wide and locked on your own, mouth open in a silent scream)_. It's the last time she looks at you. 

You spend the rest of the day wandering around, doing whatever you want, because no one can bear to be in the room with you long enough to give you orders. At first you relish the freedom, but being surrounded by people pretending you're not there rapidly loses its appeal and you end up sobbing into the dirt beneath the rosebushes because you've come to the wild conclusion you've somehow turned invisible and will have to turn to crime and spend the rest of your life stealing food off tables to survive. 

Then men in shiny coating show up and take you away. And they lock you away in a tower, and you're among people like you, and they try to make you feel like you belong, but...

The bonfire lets off a loud crack, breaking Kara Amell out of her memories. She looks up. Is she getting too serious here? Her companion's expression in the firelight is patient enough, so she continues. 

“It's always there. That agreement across the tower, that each of us is a potential abomination, steeped in sin, and we should never enjoy what we're learning.” Her normally open face is scrunched up with bitterness. “But... I did. I love magic. It's a part of me, it's who I am." 

"Did you ever learn to shoot a bow?”

She shakes her head and shrugs. “There wasn't anyone to teach me, nor anywhere to set up a range. We weren't allowed outside except for supervised activities, you know. Plus, when compared to a mage's staff, there wasn't much point in learning a ranged weapon you have to aim with.” Her face breaks into a cheeky grin. “I never learned to cook either, for what it's worth.”

They laugh together for a minute, but it fades into the night.

“Eventually... I started to feel like the tower was home. I found friends there, and the First Enchanter... I felt like I belonged. But then...” she smiles ruefully. “Every time I started to feel that way, I went up to the front doors and asked the Templars if I could leave. They always said no, of course. But I needed to check. To remember."

"To remember?”

“A cage can never be a home.”


	2. Jowan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loyalty isn't easy to explain.

She asks the question not because she doubts her friend, but because she just needs to hear the answer straight from him.

_Is what they say true?_

He declares his innocence, and she should be satisfied. But something about what he's saying... feels off.

Jowan's been her closest friend for years, ever since she arrived at the tower. They've grown up together. There's no way he could've become a blood mage without her noticing. And blood magic? Not even he would be that stupid.

_...Still._

She still finds herself in Irving's office, asking what she hopes appear the innocent questions of a concerned friend. Maybe Jowan's blowing this whole thing out of proportion. She never likes making a decision without knowing the full story, and Jowan isn't exactly an unbiased source. Irving has watched Kara and Jowan grow up, he knows them. He'll understand. 

Irving...  _admits_ it. They have some sort of proof that Jowan is a blood mage, and they are planning to make him Tranquil. It's as if the floor has fallen out from under her feet. Her trust in the first enchanter had been deep, blinded as she was by her status as his star pupil, and she now feels as if that faith is shattering into shards of glass that are caught in her throat. She politely thanks him for his time out of habit and leaves in a daze, missing the troubled gaze that follows her.

Back in the hallway, she weaves past yet more well-wishers congratulating her on the brilliant job she'd done on her Harrowing, and forces a smile onto her face until she reaches the library. Her favorite hidden alcove on the north side is empty, and she slips into it, collapsing onto the pillow she'd left.

Jowan. Her friend. She tries to reconcile the image of a malicious blood mage with the pale boy who had snuck her cookies from the kitchen her first day at the tower. He had recognized the expression in her wide eyes and did a seven year old's best to make her feel welcome in this new and scary place. Eventually, their roles had switched. She threw herself into her studies and was rewarded, while he did the same and stumbled. Kara the Star and Jowan the Useless. She begun hearing whispers that she only hung around Jowan to make herself look better. These stopped quickly once people realized that anyone whispering such things would mysteriously find anything they drank would freeze halfway down their throat. Somehow, the more everyone else lost faith in her friend, the more determined she was to stick by him—couldn't they see how hard he was trying? Did it count for nothing, the nights he'd stay up, trying not to burn the book he was reading by the light of the flickering flame he'd proudly learned how to conjure himself?

She can still see his excited expression just before his eyebrows caught fire. She smirks at the memory, but her mind's taken off on its own, and the elated expression on Jowan's face dies as his eyes go blank. A shudder runs down her spine as she realizes whose face has butted into her memory. It's Owain, the Tranquil who runs the stockroom. One time she'd gotten frustrated at his lack of response and called him less than human. But instead of yelling or even frowning, he'd calmly requested she apologize, still in that unsettlingly even tone.

Always so expressionless, caring about nothing.

And not caring about not caring.

She imagines Jowan's face, the shell of him, speaking in an flat version of Jowan's voice, gazing at her evenly with empty eyes. Asking her why she looked so distressed. 

She does not tell Irving of the escape plan. And she stands by that decision, even after Jowan proves himself a liar and and Gregoir is staring down at her like he is wishing the tower had lower widows, if only to toss her out of them. (If Duncan hadn't shown up to pull her out of the fire... She spends many nights Definitely Not thinking about that.)

Jowan lied to her. He's a blood mage. She should hate him. 

It's not the first thing in her life that isn't that simple. 


	3. Outside

After years of imagining the day she’d finally get to leave the tower, she’d never imagined the process itself would be so short. Templars escort her to her bed in the Apprentice Quarters (she’d never even gotten to move to her new room as a full mage), and is surprised to realize how little she personally owns. The tower always provided what she needed. A few personal trinkets, her diary, and a few potion ingredients all fit into a small bag she can carry. Her staff is strapped to her back.

A few apprentices give her questioning looks, but she can’t find words to explain what’s just happened. Jowan’s gone? She should be shipped off to Aeonar but she's been recuited to join an army and fight monsters instead?

It’s too much. She leaves the explanations to Irving and takes her last remaining moments to try and memorize their faces. Swallowing the suddenly appearing lump in her throat, she leaves the only friends she’s known without a proper goodbye or a look back.

The Templars lead her back to the main hall where Duncan is waiting, and while he smiles warmly at her, her heart stutters as they near the doorway. It’s silly, but she half-expects to bounce off an invisble barrier or burst into flame the second she attempts to cross the threshold.

But the friendly guard nods at her in recognition. The other one ignores her. And that's it. They're out the doors. She’s outside! She’s--

She stops dead.

 _Maker, there's just so much_ sky _out here._

The tower doesn't have many windows. The ones that are there are high up, letting in light but discouraging mages from looking out at weather they won't be able to enjoy. The last time Kara was outside was years ago, but their weekly exercise sessions had been moved inside after an apprentice tried to escape across the lake and one of the Templars had dived in after him without thinking. In full plate armor. Kara and most of her fellow apprentices had howled with laughter as he sank like a rock, but neither the sodden Templar nor his fellows had been amused, and though the runaway mage was quickly apprehended, they hadn't been allowed outside for years after that. 

Here in the present, the sky holds a few wisping clouds and a half moon, and the dark sky twinkling overhead seems to go on forever. 

She hears a chuckle and realizes Duncan is holding out a hand to help her into the boat.

They ride across the lake. Duncan starts explaining where they are going, and she pulls her attention from the smooth water to fall back into attentive student mode. 

(Her eyes keep drifting back to the water. Her last boat ride was over 10 years ago. It was a lot less exciting.)

When they reach land, she strays from the path a bit to appreciate the feeling of grass beneath her boots, so different from the stone of the tower. Even walking out here is a strange sensation. There is going to be a lot to adjust to.

* * *

When they camp for the night, the first thing she does is find a secluded patch of grass and take off her shoes. It's only then--grass tickling her feet, mud squishing through her toes--that she can finally see the rest of her life stretching out in front of her.  


	4. A Very Strange Man

Duncan's set her loose in the camp with little instruction but to find another Warden. His name is Alistair and no one seems to know where he is. Still, she clings to that instruction like it's her one raft in this sea of people who seem to know what they're doing here. She bites nervously at the skin by her thumbnail and reflects on the irony that after years of wishing she could break out of her perfectly scheduled days, she could stand to have a bit less freedom.

She helps a dog, meets a senior enchanter, and finds a man selling things. She holds on to her coppers for now; traveling with Duncan gave her an idea of what things cost, but he'd handled most of it, and she fears getting ripped off now that she has money of her own to be responsible for.

Finally, someone takes pity on her: the man she's looking for went that-a-way. She shoots off like an arrow and walks straight into an argument.

There's a mage looking unamused at a not-a-mage who is making some very entertaining if not wise remarks. A amused snicker escapes from her before she can stop it, and they both look her way, surprised. An audience is apparently the last straw for the mage, who growls one last parting shot and stomps past her without a second glance. She's left with the silly one.

He turns to her, grinning. “You know, one great thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”

_I'm in trouble_ is the thought that comes to mind. The man is handsome, and witty to boot. She cannot remember the last time she was flustered; some part of her mind marvels at the feeling. Growing up surrounded by friends and mentors she had known for years had given her confidence, but it couldn't only be in that familiar environment that she could function. G _et it together girl, you can survive in the real world--even if it is full of charming young men._  

She slides into a knowing smile and hopes the pause wasn't obvious. “I know exactly what you mean.” 


	5. A Templar!

She tries not to take a step back, heart sinking. She's been friendly, if not friends, with Templars before, but they always make her a little uneasy. Magic flows through her veins just as readily as blood, and the thought that someone has the power to take that away from her rarely made for the most comfortable of companionships. Not to mention the way most of them looked at her like she was cursed. She hopes that hasn't tainted this man's opinion of her already.

While the amiable smile is still in place, he's also eying her a bit warily now that the truth is out in the open. Perhaps there was some honest worry behind that joke about transfiguration. Well, if they're going to work together, they've got to get past this. She makes a conscious effort to relax her stance and fixes a smile back onto her face. “Well then, ex-Templar, I promise not to turn you into a frog if you promise not to smite me.”

It works. He laughs, relaxing as well. “Deal, then.” They shake hands.

“Oh," she pauses, finger to her bottom lip in a thoughtful gesture. "I suppose it would've been fair to tell you,” —She grins bashfully—“I have absolutely NO idea how to turn someone into a frog.”

His jaw drops open, but after the mock insulted look drops from his face, he settles into a much easier smile. It seems they're going to be okay.


	6. Joining

_Maker, I don't want to do this._ Her eyes dart between the bodies surrounding her. She realizes she's lightheaded, tries and fails to slow her breathing. She hadn't particularly cared for Jory and his dreams of grandeur, but Daveth had a world-weary cynicism and a desire to be something better that had endeared him to her.

Moments ago, they had both been alive, and that had all mattered.

How had it all gone so bad so quickly? She realizes Duncan is holding the chalice out to her expectantly, with a grim look on his blood-splattered face. She is sure, looking at him, that no matter how friendly he seemed to her before, he will strike her down without hesistation if she refuses to take that cup. 

She can't bear to look at Daveth again, but the image of his last moments as the concoction burned up his insides are seared into her brain. The second that flask touches her lips, she just knows she will throw up. She can't do this.

 _Be brave,_ she commands herself. _Daveth was afraid, but he went ahead with it anyway. Back out like Jory, and you'll die. Drink, and you might die..._

_...but you might not._

It isn't exactly a choice.


	7. Companions (Part 1)

She likes Morrigan almost immediately. She isn't sure they're going to get along at first (especially if she and Alistair keep snipping at each other like that), but the woman has a self-assured nature that Kara respects. Morrigan makes no apologies for being who she is. She's an apostate, which should inspire wariness, but the hissing warnings of the templars are drowned out by an endless stream of questions. Who _is_ this woman who has lived for so long outside of the circle's reach without destroying the world?

* * *

She's not sure how to feel about Leliana. Her desire to help seems genuine, and Kara finds her take on the Maker refreshing. But the former sister has so many secrets in her past, and her skill for weaving tales makes Kara unsure if she can take any confession she hears as the truth. 

Still, there's a lot of laughter when they're together, and they can talk about shoes and cute things Alistair did that day as they play with each others' hair. It's nice to have a friend where things can be simple like that.

* * *

Sten confuses her. Most conversations she's sure she's pissed him off, but instead he seems to approve. Go figure.

She does enjoy their night watches together. Almost nothing is said, but the silence is comfortable.

* * *

Her attraction to Alistair was immediate, but at the time she pushed it to the back of mind. She wasn't in the Tower anymore, where one could sneak around stealing kisses behind the stacks of library books and nobody really cared as long as you weren't messing with the Chantry and kept up with your studies and didn't end up with a child. She's in an army now, and she needs to be taken seriously as an equal, not just as some woman who'll be passed around the troops.

But then they're on the run, with a bare-bones plan for an impossible task, and any day might be their last, so... _why not, right?_

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

 


	8. Redcliffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is the name of Kara's Mabari.

She hasn’t slept. She’s covered in all manner of slime and goop. And she’s just been reunited with her former best friend-turned-blood mage, only to discover he’s responsible for accidentally unleashing demons upon a whole village.

She wipes blood out of her eye and squints resignedly at Lady Isolde, who is wailing about how her son isn’t really a monster. As much as Kara tries to focus on the woman’s grief, her mind will not stop drifting back to the warm fires and soft beds back at the Circle Tower. She could be curled up with a book learning about the unintended effects of entropy spells, and no one would be giving her that look like she was the best one in the room to decide what needed doing.

“YOU!” Isolde mood manages to get worse, somehow. Oh, Jowan’s back. Wait.  _Jowan’s back?!_ He was supposed to run. He had his freedom. _Why would he come back?_

As it turns out, Jowan has a plan. It’s ... more than they had a minute ago, but not by much. She meets his hopeless eyes. He almost smiles at her, and despite the inappropriateness to the situation, her lips twitch in response. How did they get _here,_ of all places? Where decisions are not just whether to spend the evening studying or sneaking off to an empty dormitory with some apprentice or another, but choosing between who deserves to live or die. Because one way or another, someone is dying here. It’s... She feels a stab of panic smothered by irritation. Why is everyone looking at her again?

She doesn’t want to kill Connor. She doesn’t want to kill the Arlessa either. But the fact remains that there’s a _demon_ waiting upstairs, and the woman is willing...

She tests the weight of the decision on her heart. Is this something she can live with? If the Arl ever awakens, can she look him in the eyes as the one to take his wife away to return to him his son?

Alistair cuts in. “We’re not actually considering this, are we?” 

At last, someone else has an opinion. _Too bad it's unhelpful._ Irritation flashes through her. “What else can we do? We can stop this now, but we've only got three mages here. That isn't enough for the ritual without blood magic." 

“We can go to the circle tower. Get the mages there to help.”

 _The tower._  It's not exactly the trip of hours, not to mention everything in her rejects the idea of returning there only to be begging for help. _Are you really going to let a woman die because of your_ **_pride?_** Kara winces and looks into the determined face of Lady Isolde. She had found her to be an altogether unpleasant sort of woman ever since she came shrieking down the mountainside and looked at Alistair like he was a piece of dung on her shoe. But the lengths she went to to keep her son (disastrous though they were), and her unflinching determination ... Kara would very much like to see the woman who bore such a love reunited with her son.

_And yet..._

“Alistair, we don’t have time for this. It takes days to get to the tower, and that demon is waiting upstairs. Who knows how long until it starts wreaking havoc again?"

Jowan pipes in. "I can try and hold him, keep him asleep." 

Alistair glances back. "Can you even... I know you say he’s your friend, but how far can you trust a  _blood mage?”_

She looks over at Jowan. Everything he's tried so far has gone from bad to worse. He's even paler than normal, covered in marks of torture they’d inflicted on him for his crimes. She’d opened the door to his cage and left the way to the door clear, he could have run. 

"I trust him." Jowan looks amazed. She looks hard into his eyes. "Don't let me down."  _again,_ is implied.  "Morrigan, you'll stay and help Jowan keep Connor contained. I’ll leave Sten with you too, in case... Just in case. Leliana, Alistair, Charlie and I will all go to the tower to ask the mages for help." With that, she walks up to Lady Isolde and takes her hand, looking her straight in the eye. “I promise I'll do my best to get your son back to you.”

The woman bursts into fresh tears. _"Thank you."_

* * *

**Back at camp**

She's staring at her travel pack, head buzzing in exhaustion as Alistair does his best to explain the change in plan to Leliana and Sten. “Then that blood mage said--”

It's the last straw. _“DON’T CALL HIM THAT!!!"_  Kara is on her feet, eyes blazing. “His name is _Jowan_ , and he has a good heart and a stupid laugh and the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met or ever w-will meet again.” Choking back tears, she finally realizes that the camp had fallen into complete silence as everyone has stopped what they were doing to watch her scream her head off. 

Alistair’s mouth is open and he looks he’d accidentally stepped on her puppy. “Kara, I’m... I-I didn’t mean...” 

“S-sorry,” she cuts him off, ashamed and feeling like a lunatic. _Well, if he liked me before, that'll be the end of it._ Unable to look anyone in the eye, she abruptly turns and walks into the forest.

* * *

**To the Castle**

"You’re angry with me."

The words jolt Kara from her thoughts as they cross the lake. Alistair is looking at her, golden eyes sad. She hadn't spoken to anyone except to give orders since her spectacular blowup. Leliana has been eying them curiously, but now seems very absorbed with making sure her bow is strung properly. 

Kara sighs. “I’m not angry, I'm embarrassed. I shouldn't have yelled."

He laughs softly, relieved. "It's been... a long day."

Her answering smile is small but sincere. "You can say that again. When did we last sleep?"

"Sleep... I remember this thing." 

They laugh together for a minute, healing the awkwardness. Then she sobers again. “You were right. Blood magic should never be an option. I'm just..." She scrubs her hands over her face. "I didn't leave on the best of terms. This isn't how I wanted to come back to the tower." She eyes the building in question, growing ever closer. "Two months away from the Templars and blood magic begins to sound reasonable. What if..." Her throat closes off as she tries to give voice to her fear. "What if Duncan made a mistake, taking me from the tower?" 

"I don't think he did." She feels a warm hand on hers. "I'm sorry. I'm the senior Warden, and I've left this all on you. I think... you're doing a fantastic job." He gave her hand a squeeze. "You shouldn't have to feel like you're alone in this."

She turns her hand so as to link their fingers together. "I guess I'm not." 

They reach the shore in silence. 


End file.
